


if you asked me

by becauseimclever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Taylor Swift - Freeform, so much taylor swift i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseimclever/pseuds/becauseimclever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire pines. Enjolras is rude. Taylor Swift is involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you asked me

**Author's Note:**

> set to I'd Lie because tell me it's not written by Grantaire to Enjolras i s2g

After a long debate at Musain, most of the boys have already poured into the streets of Paris. Jehan left first, gushing about a poetry reading down the street, dragging Courfeyrac with him. The others were smart enough to follow, leaving Grantaire laughing at a fuming Enjolras.  
"You're drunk."  
"Oh, marvelous deduction, Apollo. Truly amazing," Grantaire smirks from his barstool.  
"Too drunk to interrupt my meetings and disturb the group's plans, Grantaire," Enjolras said with thinning patience. "Certainly too drunk to walk home," he said as an afterthought that Grantaire raised a brow at.  
"Is the great god showing concern for mere mortals?"  
"Get up," Enjolras sighs, pulls his coat on, and pushes the stumbling Grantaire into the street and into his car. 

Grantaire is staring. He knows he's staring but being this close to Enjolras makes his chest hurt. He should stop. Now. But the streetlights illuminate the car as they pass by and Grantaire is drawn to the color of his eyes that resemble the Seine in the summer or the color of dull grey mornings. He should do a study on the color. He might win over his teachers and pass his classes if he displays pieces full of ceruleans and cobalts and sapphires.  
Enjolras glances over and coughs at Grantaire's wide eyed expression, but doesn't ask for an explanation, just whether he was really paying any attention to what was said at the meeting.  
Grantaire clears his throat and says, “Well, there was something about rebellion and justice? Very moving stuff, really. However..."  
Grantaire cuts off as Enjolras briefly looks directly at him and he counts at least 12 more shades of blue.  
" _However_ ," Enjolras presses, fingers tightening on the wheel and fixing his face on the road again, drawing a pitiful noise from Grantaire.  
" _However_ , the boys were bored, to be quite honest. You should be more interesting. Have you ever thought of juggling? Stripping, maybe?" and shit Grantaire meant it as a joke but it came out far too seriously, causing Enjolras to jerk the car and Grantaire's stomach with it.  
"I'm their leader. They should all know that the sole purpose is justice for the people, not fun and games," Enjolras bites through clenched teeth and Grantaire grins.  
"Not all of us can be vowed to Patria our whole lives, Apollo."  
"Not all of us can be drunkards our whole lives, _R._ "

And with that, Grantaire throws up in Enjolras' seat. 

 

He's in the middle of his fifth study of blues when he hears a knock on the door above the music in his apartment. Eponine barges in less than ten seconds later, clearly using the lock picking skills Gavroche taught her.  
"Dearest 'Ponine, to what do I owe the pleasure," Grantaire bows, grinning. Eponine rolls her eyes but her lips twitch nonetheless and shoves a letter to Grantaire. He glances at it, eyebrows rising slowly.  
"A birthday party? For Enjolras? You realize he won't even show up to his own party, don't you?" Grantaire turns to cover the easel and hides the other finished paintings before catching Eponine’s frustrated sigh.  
"Which is why we plan on surprising him and dragging him out of the library. We have Bahorel after all," she states, "But we need to make sure he has presents."  
Grantaire scoffs. "Don't worry about that. I've got it covered."  
Eponine narrows her eyes and points at him, "If this is another one of your stupid pranks like last year I swear I will rip your small intestine out."  
He falls face-first on the couch and protests, "Taylor Swift's _Red_ was perfect, I will always stand by that. Not only was it his favorite color but it highlighted his atrocious taste in music."  
"You're obsessed. It's making me sick," she says as she sits on his back and toes the old takeout on the coffee table. "I don't think even Combeferre knows Enjolras' favorite color and he's known him since childhood." Grantaire groans.  
"It's not that hard to figure out when he wears that damn red coat everywhere. _And_ he hums '22' when he's been drinking, you’ll see." He knows Eponine is giving him that _look_ where he just made a terrible mistake. 

She waits all of a minute before leaping up and belting “You Belong With Me.”

 

Grantaire has been behind the couch for over 30 minutes and his foot is definitely asleep when the door slams open behind him and Bahorel's booming laughter fills the room; Enjolras on his shoulders, protesting in vivid vocabulary.  
The group pops up from behind the furniture in Jehan and Courfeyac's apartment, the two rushing over and throwing confetti at the surprised man.  
"I told you you'd make a great stripper with all that glitter, Apollo," Grantaire calls from the couch he's claimed, Cosette giggling next to him.  
Enjolras lets out an annoyed huff before scanning the room and finding everyone present, even Musichetta who has settled herself between Joly and Bossuet on another couch, all looking at him expectantly. He sighs.  
"Please tell me there's cake," he concedes and allows a small smile when they all cheer. 

Grantaire is playing scrabble with Jehan, Joly, and Bahorel, the latter seemingly frustrated by Jehan's "obnoxiously made up" words and Joly's "ridiculous and convoluted" medical terms when he hears the familiar tune coming closer.  
"Oh my god, R, you were right," Eponine breathes as she falls next to him on the floor, watching Enjolras float around everyone, singing the chorus of “22.”  
Combeferre then interrupts him and leads Enjolras to the game and drops him on the other side of Eponine and flees for the kitchen.  
"Cake, Combeferre! I want cake," he belatedly whispers to Eponine, as if sharing a dark secret. Eponine nods sympathetically and bites back a smile before following quickly after Combeferre.  
"Oh!" he stares after her with sad eyes before fixing them on Grantaire and telling him Taylor Swift's entire biography, answering all of Grantaire's inane questions with confidence and a dash of annoyance. Eventually he tires and focuses on a word on the game board the others had abandoned when it was clear Jehan was the winner.  
The blocks read 'perplex' and Enjolras scowls at them.  
"You're perplexing, Grantaire," he finally says. Grantaire hums questioningly around his bottle and now Enjolras is scowling at him.  
"I don't even know why you're here," Enjolras exclaims, drawing the attention of the others. Grantaire clenches his jaw and he continues.  
"I mean we're not even friends, are we," and Grantaire tries to breathe, tries to speak or smile but nothing comes out.  
"Whoever invited you must regret it. They'll have to take care of you when you get too smashed to walk home, after all," Enjolras is unrelenting until Combeferre rushes over and murmurs to his friend, coaxing him into the kitchen. It's silent in the room until Grantaire chuckles weakly and runs a hand through his hair.  
"I left his present on your bed, Jehan. See that it gets to him, yeah?"  
Jehan mumbles his answer and Eponine lets out a long string of curses as she returns to the kitchen and Grantaire leaves. 

 

It's been two weeks and Grantaire still refuses to leave his apartment except for school and work. He rarely lets anyone in except Eponine because he owes her after the Marius Debacle of 2012.  
He's at work, making drinks for the loud girls celebrating a birthday when they start singing “22.” He wonders what he did to deserve hell already when the door opens and in walks Enjolras. Grantaire decides he must be the target of some sick joke.  
Enjolras is staring at him in the doorway and makes a step forward before he turns around and runs out. Grantaire claims his sigh was one of relief, but he's always been a terrible liar. 

 

He's awoken at six in the morning the next day by furious knocking and he curses the day he decided bartending was a good idea. He rolls out of bed and pulls on a shirt before stumbling over clothes and paints to the door. He mumbles his plans for Eponine’s murder but wrenches the door open to reveal Enjolras. Even with dark circles under his eyes, flattened hair and wrinkled jeans, Enjolras still looks like a god and Grantaire deems that exceedingly unfair. When Enjolras makes no move to speak, he goes to shut the door but Enjolras pushes Grantaire aside and steps over boxes of drawings and various objects. He sighs, "Enjol-"  
"A guitar?" Enjolras interrupts. Grantaire blinks, "My present. From you. A guitar," he clarifies.  
"Well, yes, that was before-" Grantaire argues.  
"Before I was the worst possible human being, even Hitler would be ashamed, yes I realize. Our dear friends made very sure of that," Enjolras snaps and winces when Grantaire’s face drops.  
"Sorry, I'm just- I'm trying to figure out the guitar and I know I shouldn't have come here. But I knew you wouldn't let me in if you knew I was coming and that's the worst. It really is, Grantaire and I-"  
"You wanted to learn," Grantaire says softly.  
"I- What?" Grantaire has never seen Enjolras speechless and at least he can still appreciate that.  
"A few months ago. You were drunk and singing '22' when you said you wanted to learn to play," Grantaire grins at the memory, "You really are too much like Taylor Swift, Apollo." Enjolras looks confused before opening his mouth and closing it again.  
"Are you- You're not mad?"  
"Well," Grantaire puts on his serious face, "Courfeyrac texted me last night after my shift saying you were at his place crying on the guitar for hours and that Jehan was sharing his sad poetry with you," Grantaire pouted mockingly. Enjolras sputtered, "It was not _hours_."  
"Mhm."  
"And I only read a few poems."  
"Of course."  
"I swear!"  
"And how many did you write?"  
"Irrelevant."  
Grantaire grinned and pulled him in.

 

*6 months later*  
"Really, Apollo? The Green Album? _The Muppets_?" Grantaire sneers at Enjolras as he sits next to him on the floor as their friends laugh around them, Eponine the loudest of all.  
"Not only is it your favorite color but it highlights your atrocious taste in music," Enjolras parrots back at him before taking a large bite of cake.  
"When have I ever listened to the Muppets, good god," he mutters as he steals the next bite and a sloppy kiss on Enjolras' cheek.  
"Fine, fine but I have a better present for you," he tells Enjolras who furrows his brows.  
"I don't think that's how it works, R," Enjolras protests as Bahorel wheels out a cart of canvases. Suspicion arises in the group with the exception of Eponine and Bahorel. Enjolras makes his way to the cart and lifts the first canvas, a small oil painting of a stark black circle and every shade of blue imaginable surrounding it. The next dozen were similar, all bright blues and vivid streaks, including various sketches of dull blue-grey mornings, and many watercolors of the river and one portrait that makes Enjolras breathless.  
"I had to make sure you didn't look perplexed. Which was quite a difficult task, I'll have you know," Grantaire says behind him. The silence that follows is tense before Enjolras begins laughing and can’t seem to stop, and the others don't even complain when he steals Grantaire away for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimers etc  
> inspired heavily by [x](http://les-amis-last-night.tumblr.com/post/58446103122#notes)  
> talk to me about the barricade boys over [here](http://becauseimclever-.tumblr.com)


End file.
